


Merry Christmas to All

by shireness



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Anyways have some nice holiday fun, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Gen, Let’s call this canon inspired, So I don’t actually know much of what’s going on, christmas future fic, ’Cus I haven’t done more than read recaps this season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-21 21:25:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13152342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shireness/pseuds/shireness
Summary: Christmas has become An Event in the Swan-Jones household.





	Merry Christmas to All

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write something Christmas-y, you know? And happy Killian with excited kids sounded really nice.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Psst.”

The little whisper isn’t really a shock. Over the past couple years, Killian has grown very accustomed to the noise. In reality, he’s been only dozing for perhaps the past twenty minutes, enjoying a few more minutes in the sole company of his lovely wife before the chaos the day will undoubtedly bring. However, his morning visitor doesn’t need to know that he would have been up in the next half hour, regardless. Half the fun – for both of them – is pretending to still be asleep.

“Psst. Papa. Papa, wake up.”

Even after over four and a half years, the title still brings a smile to his face, and he can’t help but turn his head to see blue eyes and bouncing energy.

It had been a bit of a wait to be blessed with their own child, but Amelia Alice Jones is worth every moment. She’s a happy, cheerful child, curious about absolutely everything, with his eyes and hair in a red-brown shade Killian thought only existed in storybooks. In short, she’s perfect.

Emma’s still sleeping – it had been a bit of a long night in the Swan-Jones household – but thankfully, Amelia has the good common sense to whisper. Brilliant little lass. “Papa, you’ve got to get up, it’s Christmas!”

As if he could forget.

Christmas has been a bit of an event ever since he and Emma got married. Things had properly settled down in Storybrooke not long after their nuptials – the occasional disturbance at most, no more of this ‘villian of the week’ nonsense – and Christmas had been one of the first holidays their little family had cause to celebrate. Emma and Henry had gone all out to introduce him to the holiday, with peppermint everything and eggnog and weeks of Christmas movie marathons, a fire roaring in the fireplace and a beautifully decorated tree in the corner. Christmas morning, Henry and Emma had teamed up to jump on him, screeching about Christmas, so his wakeup call this morning is sedate in comparison. All the same, he treasures the memories of that first holiday.

Subsequent holidays had been somewhat tamer – always with a family lunch at the Nolan’s farmhouse, some years spending the morning with Henry, some years not. After Henry had embarked on his quest to find his own story, holidays were somewhat sadder, Emma (okay, Killian too) nostalgic for the afternoons curled up on the couch with Henry, watching the snow fall. Their ever-unsuccessful efforts to start their own family only added to the vague melancholy, especially as Emma’s parents continued to reproduce like rabbits – Emma now the proud older sister to four siblings. Thankfully, by the time Regina joined Henry, they were finally expecting a little one of their own, the excitement and preparations somewhat tempering any sorrow Emma might have felt about losing her friend and confidant. Regina and Emma may have had a rough start, but the two women not only reached an understanding, but developed a close friendship over the years.

Christmas may have always been special, but everything changes when Amelia arrives. She’s a mere seven months old that first Christmas, not nearly old enough to remember anything, but Killian and Emma act like a pair of fools, buying her far more toys than any infant more interested in the paper ever needs. Last year was the first Christmas they knew she might actually remember, and so they had gone all out all over again. Hopefully, Amelia will have lovely memories of making cookies and ice skating and opening presents with Mama and Papa that will last her for years.

Transported back to the present by an insistent tug on his sleeve, he flashes a grin at his daughter and swings his legs out of bed, careful not to wake Emma. Resting his stump on Amelia’s back, he motions for her to keep quiet as they make their way out into the hallway and shut the door again.

“Let’s let Mama sleep a bit longer, okay darling?”

She nods, very serious. Oh, his precious little lass.

“Shall we make her some breakfast for when she wakes up?”

Well, that gets her attention, as Amelia scampers for the stairs in an auburn blur of flying curls, making him chuckle.

He’ll meet her in the kitchen soon enough – he’s got another stop to make first.

———

Killian practically inches open the door to the small, green corner room before noticing its inhabitant is already awake, if still quiet.

After so much struggle to conceive Amelia, Killian and Emma had assumed their daughter would be the only child they’d raise from birth, the only sibling Henry would have. But four and a half years and a very careless Valentine’s Day later, he and Emma became parents again – this time to a little boy, their little Dash. Well, Dashiell. Dashiell Liam. A tiny, precious bundle now a full nine weeks old.

It’s been a little bit of an adjustment period with Dash, in the best of ways. Amelia had been a whirlwind since the day she was born – loud and determined to be the center of attention, and Gods help the man or woman who didn’t grant her their full and prompt attention. Dash, in contrast, is a quieter little lad – Amelia’s piercing wails traded for his less noisy whimpers, like he’s set on being polite or some such idea. Of course, with the full practice of a father to now two young children, Killian wakes to any noise from the baby monitor anyhow, as does Emma. He’d forgotten, truly, how tricky sleeping with a newborn is, now that Amelia (mostly) sleeps through the night, but now he’s up again every few hours because Dash is hungry or needs a change or just wants a little company.

Right now, though, Dash seems perfectly happy just to pedal his arms and legs in his seasonal, candy striped onesie, distracted by the colorful mobile above his bassinet. Soon enough, though, as Killian bends over the crib to scoop his little lad up, he’s treated to a genuine smile from Dash as he sees his Papa. The smiles only started last week – an early Christmas gift, Emma had told Killian – and Killian is still reveling in every toothless grin.

“Hello, laddie, are you ready for Christmas?”

Dash just continues to smile. He’ll take that as a yes.

“Well I think your big sister is downstairs, ready to make Mama a proper feast. Shall we go see her?”

He gets a happy sounding gurgle and grab for his nose in response. Another yes, surely.

“Alright, let’s go see sissy.”

Sure enough, Amelia has pulled out half the refrigerator to cook. Those frozen biscuits she likes so much, bacon, a nearly empty bag of hash browns (he thinks there’s another in the fridge – otherwise he may be dealing with a very disappointed pre-schooler), the box of frozen waffles, a can of cinnamon rolls… the eggs are still in the fridge, but Killian suspects that’s only because his daughter still couldn’t reach them, even with her little kitchen stool. He chuckles at her haul, before quickly moving in to limit her picks.

“I know you’re excited, little love, but we can’t eat all of this. Pick only a few things, please.”

She settles for hash browns, biscuits, and bacon, happily putting the rest back into the fridge as Killian settles Dash into the baby swing he’s only just grown into.

By the time Emma sleepily stumbles down the stairs, yawning all the while, breakfast is almost ready – the bacon already out of the microwave, the hash browns just flipped over, and the biscuits coming out of the oven in the next few minutes. She presses a quick kiss to his lips as Amelia barrels over, shrieking at the top of her lungs, “Merry Christmas, Mama!”

“Merry Christmas, Duckling!” Emma cheers back, before leaning over to whisper in his ear. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

He barely has a chance to kiss her again before she’s moving to the swing, where Dash has perked up again at hearing his mother’s voice.  
Killian is well aware that this may be their last relatively quiet moment of the day before chaos descends, but he almost doesn’t care. Christmas is always an event, but this year will be particularly special, since it’s the first Henry – and his family – will spend with them since his return from his time cursed in Washington.

Emma had been ecstatic at the return of her son – though how many of those tears were the result of hormones is anyone’s guess. Killian had been smacked for even suggesting it. Regardless, Henry is thrilled with his siblings, Emma is besotted with Lucy (“God, Killian, I’m way too young to be grandmother to a kid that old. Is this how my mother feels?”), and everyone even admits that it’s nice to have Regina back in town. Granted, it’s still a relief that the other him elected to stay behind in Hyperion Heights, endeavoring to bring order to a town only newly aware of their formerly cursed state. Killian isn’t sure he’s nearly awake enough these past days to have been able to keep track of conversation had there been two Killians running around.

Killian may be looking forward to a holiday with his stepson, but it’s Amelia who’s truly thrilled. She’s come up with all kinds of plans, seemingly determined to fit an entire year’s worth of activities into a single day. To his amusement, she’s detailing all her plans of what she and Henry and Ella and Lucy are going to do for what must be the tenth time to Emma. Thank the gods that Henry’s wife and daughter are just as good of sports and Henry is.

“…and then, after the snowball fight, we’ll have hot chocolate, and Grandma can help us make cookies, and maybe then you and Auntie Regina can make an ice rink! And then I wanna show Lucy Rudolph cus she’s never seen it, Henry says…” She’s barely taken a bite in her excitement, and while part of him wants to just sit and listen to her babble on, Killian is still very well aware of the absurd schedule his mother-in-law will undoubtedly demand they stick to religiously. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and while they may have opened all the gifts last night, he’s still got something up his sleeve.

“Melly, darling, if you hurry up and eat your breakfast, I think I might have seem something in your stocking…”

Emma and he had decided that first Christmas with Amelia that they were going to try not to play up the Santa Claus thing. Emma doesn’t have particularly fond memories of the practice, and with their luck, Santa would turn out to be real, and some kind of villain who’d turn up in the future to terrorize the town. No, better just to leave a few candies and small things in the stockings, and make a big deal out of all the family traditions instead.

Still, the promise of stocking gifts is enough to get Amelia gobbling down her breakfast and bouncing in her seat as she’s now forced to wait for her parents to finish. When they’re finally done, Killian is practically dragged into the living room by his small daughter, leaving a chuckling Emma to gather up Dash and meet them by the tree.

As Amelia tears into her stocking – just some candy from them and a couple of ornaments for the small tree in her room – Emma leans into his side with the baby, allowing him to drape his arm around her shoulders. “Thank you for letting me sleep,” she murmurs, and he smiles back at her.

“Of course, love, you deserved a little extra time.”

“All the same… thanks. I think we forgot how tiring the first few weeks are. Can that be my Christmas gift this year? An extra hour of sleep for the next few days? Can someone set that up? Oh! Maybe Mom and Dad will babysit!”

Truthfully, Killian could go for an afternoon to themselves as well, albeit perhaps with some extra activities. He’s a father twice over – he knows what the six-week checkup meant, even if they haven’t been able to act on it yet. And then sleep. Several hours of sleep. Probably not all night, since the Charmings have four kids under nine in the house and Snow’s been talking about another, but Gods above, even just an afternoon of uninterrupted sleep would be a dream come true.

He presses a kiss to her forehead and holds a little tighter before replying. “Aye, Swan, that would be lovely. Perhaps they’ll offer today when we go over.”

Across the room, Amelia is giddy with her haul. “Look, Papa, it’s a little pirate ship for my tree! Like the Jolly, Papa!”

Soon enough, they’ll have to leave, have to drive to the Nolan farmhouse before Snow blows some sort of Christmas stress induced gasket. But for now, he’s content to snuggle with his wife and son on the couch as his daughter tells them in great detail about each and every thing she’s found in her stocking.

Merry Christmas, one and all.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Please consider leaving kudos, reviews, comments, etc. - it’d be the best Christmas gift you could give me. 
> 
> Happy Holidays, and a Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate it!


End file.
